After Ash Wednesday services this week, Father Charlie caught me in my office eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Guess we’re not observing that whole fasting thing, huh?” he joked with me. We then talked about how both of us struggle with fasting. Prone to being what some call “hangry,” or in my case of low-blood sugar, even faint, neither of us is particularly good at fasting. When I was finally diagnosed with having low-blood sugar many years ago, a great mystery was solved. Upon hearing the news, all of my friends would, with relief, say, “Oh! That explains soooo much!” Only then did I discover my friends had been involved in a huge coping conspiracy. Jennifer is acting weird or annoying or cranky – who has food? I may even be the inspiration behind those Snickers commercials where cranky people are suddenly transformed back to their lovely selves as soon as they get the candy bar.

The trouble with people like me, or maybe even most of us, is that we hear the temptations of Jesus today and we immediately see ourselves in them. We think about the times we have been hangry or desperate for food, and we know the difficulty of the devil’s temptation to turn stones into bread. Or maybe we relate more to the temptation of the ego to be all powerful, or to temptation to test God, just to be sure we are secure in God’s protection. Because the temptations in the gospel lesson are so relatable, we can almost too easily see ourselves in them and miss the point. You see, the temptations of Jesus aren’t really about bread, power, and safety. Just like the Lenten disciplines we take up are not really about chocolate, scripture reading, or prayer. The temptations of Jesus are about something much deeper: they are about identity.

In Luke’s gospel, Luke has already described Jesus’ baptism by John, when God declares, “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Then, just before this passage, Luke articulates the genealogy of Christ, emphasizing the importance of who Jesus is based on his ancestors. So, when Jesus goes into the wilderness, the devil is not actually trying to tempt Jesus with bread, power, and safety. No, Jesus is being tempted to deny his identity. As Karoline Lewis says, “the identity test for Jesus is not so much a test of who he is, but how he will live out his identity as Son of God. The devil knows perfectly well who Jesus is. The devil does not question who Jesus is, but tries to get Jesus to question who he is…”[i]

And that is a temptation we understand all too well. “…temptation is not so often temptation toward something – usually portrayed as doing something you shouldn’t – but rather is usually the temptation away from something – namely, our relationship with God and the identity we receive in and through that relationship. Too often Christians have focused on all the things we shouldn’t do, instead of pointing us to the gift and grace of our identity as children of God.”[ii] In the end, the temptations Jesus faces could be anything. They could certainly be “Bread, power, and safety. But [the temptations] just as well might have been youth, beauty, and wealth. Or confidence, fame, and security.” The devil does not care about the content of the temptation. The devil seeks “to shift our allegiance, trust, and confidence away from God and toward some substitute that promises a more secure identity.”[iii]

In part, that is why we take on disciplines during Lent. We fast, pray, and study Scripture not because we need to imitate Jesus’ temptation. We give up chocolate, coffee, or wine, or we take up kindness, fitness, or quiet not to simply push ourselves into new patterns. We take on disciplines in Lent because we need to remind ourselves of our genealogy – to remind ourselves that we too are beloved children of God. We know that when we claim that blessed status as beloved children of God, the devil will try to make us doubt the abundant, enduring, graceful love of God for each of us. Because only when we doubt or forget our identity do we really fall into the temptations of this world.

No matter what our spiritual discipline, our invitation this Lent is to reclaim our identity. Our invitation is to use these forty days to reaffirm, to recover, to reassert we are beloved children of God. In yoga speak, when we have distracting thoughts, we are encouraged to acknowledge the thought, and then let the thought go. Our invitation is to do the same this Lent. As the devil puts distracting thoughts of inadequacy, unworthiness, and insecurity in our minds, we acknowledge them for what they are, and let them go. Because we are beloved children of God. Because when we boldly remind the devil that we are beloved children of God, we are empowered to remind others they are beloved too. Together, affirmed in our identity, renewed in Christ’s love and light, we can do the real work of Lent – not just showing the world we are beloved children of God, but transforming that same world through our beloved status. Amen.

One of the things that I am finding powerful about General Convention is a willingness to enter into a time of truth-telling. Before I arrived, the House of Bishops hosted a listening session of stories from women who have been sexually harassed or abused in the context of the church. From what I hear it was a powerful experience of honesty and vulnerability, and I believe many of the bishops (most of whom are male) were moved by the experience.

Last night, I sat in on a hearing for people to offer their testimonies about a couple of resolutions involving marriage rights, particularly same-sex marriages. Much of the conversation was about a resolution put forth involving a compromise (B012). According to the resolution, bishops can still make decisions with their conscious for their priests and diocese, but would give permission for any priests who feel called to celebrate same-sex marriages to do so with the oversight of another bishop of the Church. The testimonies lasted for almost two hours (not including the two hours earlier in the day), and many things became abundantly clear. Our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are hurting and longing to be treated as equal children of God. And our more conservative brothers and sisters are fearful about not being able to be faithful to their understanding of Scripture and tradition. The tension was high. But also present was a spirit of graciousness. People of opposing views were sitting beside one another, able to make eye contact and stay in the room. I came away realizing that what I was seeing was what compromise looks like – no one fully happy, but a path forward for now. And in a county that seems incapable of compromise, it was a gift to see the Church moving in that direction.

And then today, we spent time together talking about Racial Reconciliation – a topic that my conversation partner said has been a topic for twenty years of General Conventions – which means we haven’t gotten there yet. It was an inspiring, beautiful, hard time, but a time I was glad to see us have. One of my favorite speakers, the Rev. Nancy Frausto, had this to say, “This society has been contaminated by the plague of apathy.” In other words, in a political environment where injustice is rampant, we cannot afford to let apathy infect us.

I do not know where these conversations will lead. I suspect we will not solve the world’s ills at this Convention. But what we are starting to do is show the world what it means to be a diverse people who stay together, find a compromise, and love and lead together. It is not easy. In fact, it’s pretty uncomfortable. But following Jesus is pretty uncomfortable too. If the Church can’t do it, I’m not sure we can ask anyone else to do that work. I’m proud of the Episcopal Church tonight. And I will continue to hold her in my prayers.

As a mother of two girls, I have regularly followed articles and advice columns about “mean girls.” I avoided meanness like the plague as a child – not necessarily because I was more moral than other kids. In fact, my avoidance of meanness was more about self-preservation. I figured if I was never mean to others, then I reduced the risk of someone being mean to me.

Having stayed under the radar, I realize there is a world of “mean girls” that I totally missed. And I have been surprised at how early some of those tendencies arise in my daughter and her classmates. There is constant chatter about who is or is no longer one’s best friend. I am constantly hearing about hurt feelings, someone being mean, or, through inference, hearing when my own daughter seems to be the victim or perpetrator of meanness. Though I realize we are not even close to the tween and teen years, I see the hints of what is to come.

But last week, I was the chaperone for my daughter’s field trip. I wondered whether I would see any of that behavior in real time (not just through the stories relayed at bedtime or at the dinner table). My observations did not lead to any conclusions about my daughter’s experiences. But what I did see were a bunch of kids who were thrilled to have some attention and affection. I did not really do much. I deployed my typical distraction technique of asking lots of questions of the kids. And before I knew it, I never had an empty hand. Kids I had never met before wanted to hold my hand and be near me.

As we rode the bus back, my heart was full of sympathy for all the kids. Though I know they all hurt each other with insults and teasing, at the heart of matter, they are all children of God, who like all of us, long for love. What made me so grateful about the trip was these kids who sometimes say and do mean things are also kids trying to navigate social systems, kids trying to be tough, and kids who need love. And if all that is true about kids, how much more so about all of us adults? This week, I invite you to see those around you with the eyes of compassion – the same eyes with which God sees you.